


Chocolate

by preoxxupy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:25:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7315180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preoxxupy/pseuds/preoxxupy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the last day of Kabby Week.<br/>-<br/>AU where Marcus is making chocolate chip cookies and Abby continuously eats the ingredients</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate

She pulled into the driveway in her mahogany red Subaru, killed the engine and stepped out into the hot summer day. She could practically feel the radiation, that, and the stickiness of sweat on her shrubs.

_God, she couldn’t wait to change into something different._

It took some struggle to find her house key; buried in the mess she calls her purse. She had recently used her key to make a copy for Clarke, but became too preoccupied to simply slide it back onto her keychain.

She stumbled through the doorway, set her white lab coat on the hook next to the entrance and dropped her bag on the couch, before finding her husband in the kitchen.

“Hey” she walked over to his side, where he was currently on his toes reaching for their container of flour and sugar, and wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder.

She felt him plop back down and turn so she could fully unwind in his hold.

“Long day?” Marcus asked, after planting a gentle kiss in her hair and letting his chin rest of the top of her head in a protective stance. His strong hands, that seem so gentle in a time of comfort, tangled in her hair. They fall through like sand, majestic in ways more than one.

He was so caught up in the way her hair slides through his fingers, that he didn’t hear her confirmation and sigh of exhaustion, and it wasn’t until she pulled back, a tired smirk cloaking her face, that his hands stopped still.

“What?” Marcus pulled further back to get a full look of her face, his hands now barely grazing her sides.

“Nothing” Abby started to walk off into the direction of the stairs, but not before quickly running her hand through his hair and whispering “I just think you love my hair as much as I love yours”.

A hefty, lighthearted laugh arisen from behind her as she walked away, and Marcus’s eyes no longer focused on the baking task ahead of him, but on his wife’s figure as she quietly paced up the stairs.

Within a few minutes, he heard the shower turn on, and he reluctantly returned to his baking project for the upcoming get together, realizing if he thought twice about joining Abby in the shower, these cookies would never get baked. And by the time Abby came back down the stairs, dabbing her hair with the dark gray towel to absorb the wetness from the shower, Marcus had almost all the ingredients measured, tripled, and mixed into a large bowl.

She sat down on the kitchen island seat, setting her damp towel on the chair next to her, and reached over to grab the large bowl of cookie batter, while Marcus was busy grabbing the bags of chocolate chips.

“So who’s coming?” Marcus calls over his shoulder, hardly catching Abby eating the batter in his peripheral vision, but not enough to make the realization of what she’s actually doing.

“Raven and Sinclair’s flight comes in tonight, so they’ll be here in a few hours”.

“Should we meet them at the airport?”

“No, they’re renting a car from the airport and I sent Raven our address. Clarke, Lexa, Bellamy, Octavia and Lincoln are all catching the same flight tomorrow morning. Thelonious, Wells and Callie are catching a train the morning of, and I’m not sure about anyone else”. If he notices her bread pauses to stick more cookie batter into her mouth, he doesn’t mention it.

“Indra is coming with Anya on Friday afternoon, and I think Jackson called and left a message saying he couldn’t make it”.

“That’s a shame, he missed last year as well”. She scooped another piece of batter from the side of the metal bowl with her finger before placing the delicious mixture in her mouth once again.

“Maybe we can hold another event where you don’t eat all the cookie dough before we put them in the oven”. Marcus turns around to Abby’s jaw slightly dropped and eyebrows squinted in surprise.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” she responds, quickly brushing off her moment of shock and wiping her hand on her shirt. Or more correctly, his shirt.

“Hey, I just washed that!” he exclaimed as he pulled the large bowl over to his side of the island and opened the bags of chocolate.

Her shoulders heaved a shrug a millisecond before she dug into one of the bags. He lifted his eyes and found himself staring at his wife eating more of his ingredients for the cookies.

“Abby”

“What?” Her eyes displayed pure innocence, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure whether or not if he needed the chocolate.

“The chocolate chips” he said after a moment of stillness.

“What about them?” She licked her fingers that were covered in the melting chocolate, and looked him in the eye.

“I need them”. He felt so bad, asking for them back. It was like giving a puppy ice cream and then taking it away.

At work, she was a hard core, seriously committed surgeon that always got the job done, but at home, all she wanted was to sit on the couch in her husband’s arms while rewatching Downtown Abbey.

“You have two other bags” her hand gestures to the yellow Nestlé bags sitting by his hand that rested on the counter top.

“But I tripled the recipe” he lifted out his hand and repressed a smile when she stood up to hand the bag back.

“I’ll never understand baking, or cooking for that matter of fact” she stated flatly, setting the bag of chocolate in the palm of his hand, then walked over to the sink and began to wash her chocolaty fingers.

“I could teach you” he said after hearing the faucet stop running.

“Marcus, I’m a top notch surgeon and I can’t even grill a hot dog, good luck teaching me” she slide next to him, her back leaned against the island, drying her hands with a towel before eating one last chocolate chip.

“Maybe grilling isn’t your style” he claimed while rolling the chocolate chip dough into a ball and placing it on the nonstick pan.

“Marcus, I love you. But trust me, I’m hopeless”.

He turned to look at her, a little concern graced his eyes, and for a moment she wasn’t sure if he thought she was being serious or not. But after placing a kiss on her nose and saying “Abby, I love you. But trust me, you’re not” and he muffled her sweet, radiant laughs with a gentle kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for not finishing my other story, I will try to have it up this week (I know I keep saying that, but I pinky, pinky promise to have it up)


End file.
